


Biter

by Amuly



Category: Leverage
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-27
Updated: 2010-01-27
Packaged: 2017-11-03 23:25:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/387146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amuly/pseuds/Amuly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eliot is a biter; Hardison tries his best to conceal the marks. Takes place in season one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Biter

 

  


The first, and most important, thing Hardison learned about Eliot’s bedroom habits was that he was a biter. 

Really, Hardison should have expected it. But just the fact that it made so much sense for Eliot to be a biter in bed made it unexpected; it was almost _too_ obvious (and maybe, if Hardison was being perfectly honest with himself – not often – he’d admit that he might have been hoping for a little bit of gentleness in bed with Eliot). Eliot’s style in bed fit perfectly in with his style out of bed: rough, efficient, and sexy as hell.

The second thing Hardison learned from sleeping with Eliot was how to best cover up bite marks and hickeys. The first time Eliot left a silver dollar-sized hickey on his neck (the first time they had sex) Hardison hadn’t even noticed. It took Parker pointing to it and asking: “Did you fall asleep on something?” for him to spot it. He had scrambled to turn the webcam on his computer on, twisting his neck to the side in order to survey the damage. Eliot had just sat there, _smirking_ into his coffee, as Hardison had tried to mumble out some sort of excuse that agreed with Parker’s assessment of the situation.

As soon as he got the chance, Hardison found his Dr. Who scarf and wore it for the next three days until the mark faded, claiming a Dr. Who event on the BBC when anyone questioned him. He was just grateful his skin was dark: on a lighter man, the mark would have taken a week to fade.

After that first incident, Hardison quickly became an expert at covering up bite marks (the internet was a beautiful place, full of wonderful advice). Powders, concealers and foundations became regular fixtures in his and Eliot’s bathrooms. After one particularly invigorating rendezvous in the kitchen of Leverage offices, Hardison purchased himself a compact that he kept in his pocket for “on-the-job incidents”.

For the most part Hardison attributed Eliot’s biting to his violent nature. And for as much complaining that Hardison did while he was struggling to cover up the marks in the morning, when Eliot’s teeth and mouth were tracing a line down his throat, his chest, his stomach…well, the things coming out of Hardison’s mouth weren’t exactly complains. Still, every once in a while, Hardison got the feeling that there was more to Eliot’s biting than just an outpouring of sexy violence in the throes of passion. He would never voice his thoughts on the matter to Eliot, but Hardison had a sneaking suspicion that Eliot liked the idea of others knowing about them, knowing that Hardison was _his_ , and the bite marks were his way of informing the world. Figures Eliot would be the possessive type. 

***

Sophie was the first to notice. Well, technically Parker was, but she wasn’t exactly one to make the leap from bruises to love bites to Hardison-really-loves-Eliot’s-cock-and-the-feeling-might-just-be-mutual. No, of course it was Sophie, with her ability to read people at a glance, who noticed first. It wasn’t even the love bites; Hardison knew he had been working magic with his “chocolate thunder” concealer. Instead, it was the smallest, most innocuous gesture.

Hardison and Eliot were talking in the kitchen when Sophie had walked in to grab a water bottle out of the fridge. Upon seeing a glimpse of orangey-goodness in the well-stocked fridge, Hardison had nodded to Eliot.

“Hey man, mind grabbing me one of my sodas?”

Eliot had nodded, turning to grab the fridge door from Sophie as they continued their conversation about the Rose Bowl. Eliot took an orange soda from the fridge, shut the door, and passed the soda off to Hardison over the table. Their fingers hadn’t even brushed. Totally innocent.

Not to Sophie. Her eyes flicked back and forth between the two of them before she clapped her hands together, grinning widely. “Oh my gosh, you two are sleeping together!”

Hardison and Eliot’s heads simultaneously snapped around, shock written clearly across both faces. Hardison started babbling. “What are you talking about, you crazy woman? You’ve been spending too much time online, you know, that internet can play tricks on the mind. Makes you start seeing things that aren’t there. Or, or maybe you’re just projecting. You know, like you’re seeing something between us,” Hardison gesticulated between him and Eliot, “that you actually want to see between yourself and Nate. It’s all that repressed sexual tension and energy, that, uh, it leads to…”

Eliot was ignoring Hardison and just leaned back on the counter, carefully considering Sophie. “How’d you figure it out?”

Hardison gaped, outraged, between the two of them. “Figure what out? There’s nothing to figure out. I don’t…” Hardison held up a finger, turning to Sophie, “I don’t know what he’s talking about. The man’s taken one too many blows to the head.”

“Oh, well, you two were practically _shouting_ it!” Sophie really was getting too much pleasure out of figuring it out. “Hardison asked you for a soda, and you didn’t complain or tell him to get it himself or _anything_. Then you _handed_ him the soda. You could have tossed it, but you took the extra moment to exchange it hand-to-hand.”

Eliot raised any eyebrow. “You figured us out because I gave Hardison a soda?”

“I read people for a _living_ , Eliot.” She shrugged and turned toward the door smugly. “Plus Hardison never remembers to cover-up the bite marks on the back of his neck.” 

Eliot’s snickering was only acceptable because Hardison planned on getting some special action later that night for his humiliation.

Surprisingly enough, Sophie didn’t seem to run immediately to Nate and tell him. Still, it didn’t take him much longer to figure it out. Then again, given the situation, he would have to be as blind as Parker not to have drawn the conclusion he did. 

**

Nate found out about Eliot and Hardison, appropriately enough, in a bar. The team had a night off, and Eliot and Hardison decided to make a night of it. They found themselves an out of the way bar with decent food and cheap drinks. They were just getting into their fourth round of drinks when Eliot suggested a round of darts. He clapped Hardison on the thigh and nodded his head at the empty dartboard. “Come on, I’ll show you some tricks.”

Following Eliot, Hardison grabbed his beer and slid out of the booth. “I don’t know, I’m pretty good with darts.” Eliot nodded at the bartender as Hardison spoke, and got a set of darts for them. “While you were busy, I dunno, punching people on the wrong side of the iron curtain, I was busy honing my skills.” Eliot’s fingers rolled the darts around, apparently checking them over. “In fact, why don’t you let me go first, and I can show you just how-”

_Snick_. Hardison blinked, then jerked backwards in shock. Eliot was grinning at Hardison, not even facing the board. “Sorry, you wanted to show me a thing or two?”

Unable to close his mouth from shock, Hardison’s head flicked between the dartboard, where Eliot’s dart stood out from the center of the bull’s-eye, and Eliot, who just kept smirking at him.

Hardison shook his head. “Hell no. _Hell_ no. Why are you an expert in darts? _Darts_. Does that come in handy in Cambodia or something?”

Eliot shook his head. “Laos,” he said in all seriousness. 

“Damn it, is there anything you’re not good at?”

Eliot advanced on Hardison, backing him up to the wall next to the dartboard. When Hardison’s back bumped into the wall, his breath started to quicken. Eliot had that _look_ in his eyes, that half-terrifying, half-feral, one hundred percent insanely sexy look. Hardison watched as Eliot’s eyes flicked to his neck, thoughts obvious. “Never managed to master the art of leaving no trace…”

Hardison started to gasp as Eliot moved in, intent on his neck. However, his gasp caught in his throat when his eyes drifted over to the entrance of the bar. “Shit, shit! Eliot…what…back off!”

Eliot pulled back, frowning. “What? No one’s going to mess with-”

“No, it’s, it’s, Eliot turn around…”

“Um, hey guys.”

Hardison really wanted to hit Eliot sometimes, but he restrained due to his lack of a death wish. Cool as ever, Eliot turned around, flipping hair out of his eyes ever so casually. “Hey Nate. Listen, we’d stay and talk, but I’m kind of in the middle of something…” Eliot jerked his head back at Hardison.

For his part, Hardison twitched uncomfortably, unable to decide if he wanted to run, or try explaining things to Nate, or grab Eliot and run, or just stab himself with a dart and save himself from the humiliation…

Brows furrowed, Nate considered the situation. After a moment, his eyebrows shot up and expression smoothed, mouth turning up in a grin. “Well, you boys have fun. I’m just going to,” he jerked his thumb back in the direction of the bar. 

Eliot nodded. “Sounds good. See you tomorrow.” Without missing a beat, Eliot turned back around and grabbed a fistful of Hardison’s shirt. “Let’s go. My place.” Well, Hardison couldn’t exactly complain about that.

**

For a long time it was never really clear to Hardison if Parker knew what was going on between him and Eliot. Once Sophie and Nate had found out, it seemed pointless to keep sneaking around the way they had previously. The cover-ups, concealers, and powders were left abandoned in the back of their bathroom cabinets. Every once in a while Sophie or Nate would shoot him a _look_ when he was sporting a particularly large and dark bruise, but for the most part no one really mentioned it.

That is, until one job in Miami. Eliot was busy flirting _outrageously_ with some bikini-clad women, while Nate was making use of the distraction by talking business with the man they had come in with. Parker was sitting in the van with Hardison, temporarily unoccupied. 

“Oh, so you ladies go to University of Miami? I actually played against your football team, back in the day. Yeah, yeah, quarterback.”

Hardison snorted back in the truck. “Yeah right. Quarterback. Someone puts a projectile like a football in your hands and all you can think of is how many people’s noses you can break with one throw.”

“Wow, studying to be photographers, both of you? That’s incredible, a really great profession. You know, when I was studying art…”

Hardison pitched his voice high. “Oh, Eliot, you’re so strong and sensitive. Let me just squeeze your biceps…oh!” Dropping his voice to its normal pitch, he grumbled into the comms. “Sensitive my ass. Why don’t I show those girls what you did to my inner thigh last night, show them how ‘sensitive’ you are. Bruise the size the Sahara…fuck! Parker!”

Parker, with her normally-endearing-but-not-right-now childlike curiosity, had reached over and prodded at the spot on his thigh Hardison had been indicating. She blinked, looking up at Hardison innocently. “What? I wanted to see how bad it was.”

Sliding his chair away from Parker as much as he could inside the narrow confines of the van, Hardison looked at Parker in bafflement, before trying to return his attention to what Eliot was saying to the girls. Of course, now Parker wouldn’t let the issue go. “So, does Eliot do that on accident, or are you guys like, into whips and chains and stuff?”

“Parker!” Hardison glared at Parker, hearing Eliot and Sophie choking slightly on the other end of the comms. Nate, apparently, remained nonplussed.

Parker shrugged. “Geeze, just wondering.”

Seeing Parker pout, Hardison rolled his eyes and sighed. Muting their end of the comms, Hardison leaned over conspiratorially. “Eliot likes to bite.” 

Parker seemed to be considering this bit of information. “Like, a vampire?”

For the third time in as many minutes, Hardison looked at Parker in bafflement. “What? No. He doesn’t like, suck my blood. This isn’t Buffy, woman.”

Parker shrugged. “Hey, I don’t know what you guys do! You’re both weird, you might like it.”

“You’re calling _us_ weird? Look, never mind, whatever. No, he just…he nibbles. But harder.” 

Parker rolled her eyes. “Okay, okay. I get it.”

They both turned back to focus on surveillance, and Hardison un-muted the comms. “What was his mouth doing down on your thigh?”

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
